The Lost Backpack

I wrote this story last May. It went into my chapters ABATE newsletter. ABATE is a motorcycle rights group and they have a section called 'The Women's Corner' and I submitted this story. This is a day in my life.

Monday, 5pm, 91 degrees.
My alarm goes off, and it's time for me to head to class. I put my books in my backpack, note that my American motorcyclist is in there, along with some old paystubs and my registration info for ROT. My purse is in there, unzipped, with my cell phone, and other stupid stuff that goes in a purse. I throw my wallet in the main section too, since I won't be needing that until I get to class to get some water out of the machine. Strap my backpack on the back of my bike and head to class. Uneventful as usual. I get onto the highway and about 5 miles down the road, and I feel something hit my back. I'm flying in the left lane, turn around and there is my backpack on the highway getting hit left and right by car after car after car. I get off at the next exit, and get back on the highway heading the other way. I loop around to see if I can find my backpack. Oh, there it is, right where I turned around in the left shoulder. At least it's safe and no cars are hitting it anymore. Now the question is, how am I gonna get it. It's rush hour, and there are a million cars. Lucky for me, they are widening the highway so there are construction crews on the right hand side. I get off at the same exit as before, loop around and pull over on the side of the road. I talk to some Mexican guys who have no idea what I said but told me to walk up to the next group of guys. Here I am in my chaps, bandanna, sunglasses walking up the dirt road to see the construction guys (yes, people were honking. hee hee). I find an English speaker and tell him my predicament. He takes down my number and says if he picks it up, he'll give me a call. In the meantime, I figure I can get my bag before he can. I ride down the highway looking for another turnoff place where maybe I can pull over, run across the road and get my bag. It's not looking good. I loop around again, and realize there is a construction entrance off the OTHER side of my bag. If I can just get in that middle section, I can grab my bag. Well, considering it's rush hour, and there isn't enough room to make the stop, I try twice, and nothing doing. So, I think of option 10. HA!!HA!!
I pull off on the right side, past where the English speaker (Ben) was, but closer to my bag. I run into two more workers and they ask me if I need a ride, or what can they do to help me. I tell them that I gave Ben my number, and he will call me when he gets my bag. The driver of the truck says 'follow me, I'll lead you to the barrels where you can go into the median section. Great I think, although he has me follow him down the dirt road (my bike is now an offroader!), and around the loop again. He doesn't make it to the left lane in time, but he's done working (and so is Ben apparently), so he tells me to loop around and try it again. No luck. So I pull to the right side, again and walk up to where I am 3 lanes from my bag. I feel like I'm about to be a human frogger on the highway. It's now gotten cooler, and traffic has slowed, but there is still NO WAY I'm getting to my bag. The shoulder was so small over there, that if I made it across, I'd have to do some crazy orangutan jump over the wall just to be safe, and then I still have to get back to the other side. Well...what do you know..here comes another construction worker..

I ask him what time it is (7pm). This guy is chewing tobacco AND smoking a cigarette. He tells me that a policeman is coming soon to block off traffic, but he'll send his buddy under the bridge to get my backpack in the meantime. Fine, great. I'm talking to JR, while Ian runs across the street. He's asking me if I have money in my bag, whether there is weed in there, and that I owe them lunch, but I can flash them and call it even. I tell him he must be kidding me. I'm not flashing along the main highway just so I can get my bag back (although at this point it might be worth it!).
Ian grabs my bag and the main compartment has my one winter glove in it. He asks if I had a purse, and grabs that and my other glove off a grate. My school books and those other papers are completely gone. My wallet is completely gone as well. JR tells me that he and Ian are gonna give me a ride back to my bike in their construction truck. Robin (the forelady) says that they are ok, and I know who they're with if I never make it back to my bike. :) Ian returns the backpack to me, and my cell phone is still inside my purse but crunched to a million pieces. I had white-out in my bag, and it got smashed, and my backpack used to be green, but now it's white. Everything inside the middle section is white, and smashed (except my checkbook). I get back to my bike, and I see loose papers all over the highway and near me. So much for my notes for class. I saw and recognized a geico insurance paper from the magazine. I finally return home and realize I had put 30 miles on the bike from all the loops that I did. Not bad...

I made it home at 7:45 and the temp was 85 degrees. I'm happy to be home safe and alive. All the other stuff can be replaced, although I'm dreading going to the DMV/MVA tomorrow to get a new license.

Lesson learned: clean out your purse and backpack of all the stupid stuff that you don't really need before trekking down the road, and make sure everything is strapped on safely. Oh, Sprint PCS only accepts credit cards/debit cards, so make sure you have one at home in case you lose your phone along with your cards/licenses etc...If anyone would like to contribute to my fund, I'm short 40$, so send me an email, and I'll send you my address.

Thanks for listening to my story. I didn't end up going to class. It was too trying of an afternoon.